


Shattered

by Pelissa



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident, Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Depression, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Torture, painful and bittersweet, post RE5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 16:04:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19890571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pelissa/pseuds/Pelissa
Summary: Something that is oh so completely broken, until the pieces no longer line up when tried to put back together, can never be mended.The only true choice one had was to endure the fire or to welcome it. Albert chose the later. Because there can be no creation without destruction. No beginning without end. And his goal was the end of everything until those words got a new meaning. Chris, as always, defied any logic.- Wesker is captured by the BSAA; Chris tries to get answers and save his soul





	Shattered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionofwrath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionofwrath/gifts).



> I wrote this in one day and regret all my life choices.

* * *

Something that is oh so completely broken, until the pieces no longer line up when tried to put back together, can never be mended. 

At first, those words had a different ring to him than now. It was the world and its people who inherited it, all already on the verge of dying as they all in its wholeness had already been broken and nothing that is thoroughly broken can be repaired. Humankind as they had known it was not slowly being destroyed; it already was dead. It just took so unbearably long for the effects to show as humans still clung to this laughable thing called hope but in reality, there was nothing left to be saved. It was like maggots slowly eating away at a dead body. And he could no longer watch it.

The only true choice one had was to endure the fire or to welcome it.

Albert chose the later. Because there can be no creation without destruction.

No beginning without end

That’s what he consciously knew but as always things weren’t as simple as they seemed to be at first glance; the real truth hidden deeply, far out of reach until it was far too late.

After Uroboros they had captured him, found the remaining pieces of his shattered body and tended to him, forcing him to recover. They thought they could fix all of this, use him in any way, be it his powers or his mind, to save this world. Chris thought they could fix _him_ but there was no need for that. This world was already doomed but they just refused to let it die already, to let him die.

They experimented on him, tested out a vast majority of their technology to stabilize his body and repair it. There always was so much blood. And Chris tried repairing _him_ , his mind and soul. A quite laughable attempt because there was nothing in him that needed fixing. In spite of the agent himself knowing that truth, Chris always came back into his cell, opening his goddamn mouth. It always ended in rage in frustration, screaming and near-violent encounters - onesided. Albert was chained up but unbothered by his circumstances. He could still move around a little and use all his limbs. It was not a real prison, not for a person like him. It reminded him of the cells of his past which indeed did make him overcome with a feeling rather unpleasant but nothing unbearable. Being left alone in there, tormented by his own thoughts and past, that was the true armor of chains, confining his moves and biting into his body bit by bit, every day a little more.

There was always this annoying question.

“Why?”

At first, phrased as a command, an order he had to obey. Later on, it became weaker and then a plead. Ah. He vaguely remembered sleeping with him at one point in their shared past. It had been so long he nearly entirely forgot but the look in the others face was a clear sign the other never did and still vividly relived it in his thoughts. Every day perhaps. Obvious pain in his eyes when he pleaded with him, for an answer, something that would satisfy the strong sense of human morals - shackles designed by society to limit them - but it didn’t matter, it was a certain bond that had already been broken years ago. Something broken can never be mended. Welcome the destruction and end, and then move on.

Why couldn’t humans like Chris understand this simple fact? Why was he clinging so hard onto those living corpses - all of them already doomed in their own way and on the brink of the in the eventual death of this world. There was nothing worth saving anymore. There was nothing worth saving in this cell. But still, he was standing here, in his cell, trying to lecture him but he was beyond listening to any of this nonsense. He couldn’t listen to those lies anymore. Those values he defended, _moral agendas_ , all being nothing but forced rules that were burned into your brain - the rules they all had to obey to.

Albert never could. 

No creation without destruction

Endure the fire or welcome it

Because nothing worthwhile is ever achieved without sacrifice. And true greatness only comes to those willing to pursue it at any cost. So he fueled the fire instead and abandoned any of those shackles. Soon they wouldn’t be of much value anymore anyway.

Something broken can never be mended

Chris pleaded again, this time his raging eyes were filled with tears, radiating so much emotion and Albert didn’t understand why. Why was he so emotional this day? By this point, he should have gotten used to the same answer, expect them and not being hurt by them any longer. But he wouldn’t stop talking and was going on about things Albert didn’t understand. All he could do was watch on, confusion evident in his face as he studied him in his fruitless efforts. Then he pointed at him, a specific place on his body that he traced with his brimming eyes and all Albert could do was follow his gaze.

There was so much blood. There always was, his body still not fully stable. Chris should have been used to this sight at this point. He should have been used to a lot of things but he wasn’t. And Albert didn’t understand his words. Lately, he only understood half of them, his mind constantly fighting for his awareness but recently losing this battler more often. Then he did understand. This wasn’t one of his usual wounds, where his skin would break a little due to the virus inflicting havoc in his body.

It was a deep cut in his thigh.

He watched on in wonder as Chris charged towards him, alerted by something but Albert was still trying to wrap his head around the wound on his leg. It was painful, similar to the pain caused by Chris gripping his wrist tightly and yanking it forward. Getting touched by him burned so unbelievably much, a reminder of something - something he didn’t understand, this time emotionally. But he always was lacking in this aspect. Spencer freed him from any of those human shackles aeons ago so why was his body and mind unable to comprehend anything happening in this cell right now.

Chris hold tightened, becoming more painful until Albert’s hand became slack. Something shattered to the ground, the noise so loud and shrill that he immediately followed its source. there was a sharp metal shard of a food tablet next to him on the ground and Albert observed it in astonishment.

A slap ripped him out of his whirling thoughts and made him stare directly back into Chris’ eyes.

“Why, Albert?” There was something in the way he said the name, ragged and rasping, almost choking on his words, _his name_ , like it’s something precious to him. He tried to hide it with the fury and hatred laced into it but it was evident in the way he was still holding onto his wrist.

Albert couldn’t understand the question, neither what was going on in this moment, eyes travelling once more to the bloody shard on the ground. Something wasn’t right here but he was unable to put together the pieces.

“-How long? There is old dried blood on this shard.” Chris ordered, words were barely intelligible as quiet sobs crept into his voice. It was definitely not a question he could choose not to answer but Albert didn’t have an answer, not the faintest idea of what was happening or what Chris was thinking.

He looked again at the wound and slowly it dawned on him, a horrible suspicion he refused to acknowledge.

Chris then grabbed at Albert’s shoulders and held on with an inhuman strength that he shouldn’t possess and Albert couldn’t counter at the moment. His body was going numb with the realization. The only thing keeping him in the present were Chris’ fingers digging painfully into the sore flesh; his whole body still hurting and always recovering. Albert shook his head as the voice in his head got louder, screaming the truth into his face.

A gasp, his breathing uneven and then a sob, echoing the ones that had escaped Chris before.

Suddenly Albert was too weak to sit, and distantly he was thinking he shouldn’t show anyone this form of weakness - he did hate it - but he couldn’t bring himself to care, because his traitorous mind was screaming at him what he didn’t want to hear. Chris grip became looser but still firm enough to ground him and hold him up in his sitting position. He had noticed. There was no way he wouldn’t have as a tear started to roll down Albert’s face. The most horrible part was that Chris had noticed before him.

“Why,” Chris gritted out. His voice loud and clear again, anger and frustration winning over the sadness and desperation. “Why do you-”

“Stop!” Albert’s voice broke. He blinked, and more tears ran down his face. Crying a concept so foreign to him but one he couldn’t stop himself from indulging in anymore, like a damn inside him had broken. Like something was broken inside of him.

He was broken.

_He was broken._

When did this happen? Or had he always been broken, from the moment Spencer started to form him? No. He didn’t form him. That was another lie, one of so many he told him. Spencer broke him, he destroyed him. There is more than one way to end a life and Spencer knew exactly how to do that. He forged a new one to replace the one of the young child that he had destroyed. A new life born out of the lessons he had to endure to become someone powerful. No. Another lie of Spencer and one of his own he so desperately tried to believe. 

He never was free of that man, wore different kinds of shackles that couldn’t be touched or seen. Never loved, not even _him_. His soul never bright, never laughed because there was only hate in his life. Albert had been dead ever since Umbrella and Spencer got a hold of him. He always had been broken.

Something broken can never be mended

Somehow a small part of his mind knew. It knew and tried to slowly destroy himself. There was no place left for him in this world from the very beginning. He was lashing out, on himself and the rest of the world. He hated everything and mostly whatever was residing in his body. And his mind so desperately tried to hide this fact from himself. All those years. And now even more of it. More, more, more. Because no one would notice under the numerous small daily wounds of his damaged, virus-ridden body. Self-inflicted torture. It maddened him. It made him feel out of control but at the same moment, he realized he never had any to begin with. He was so very weak. He couldn’t even properly end himself and stay true to his own values. 

The only true choice one had was to endure the fire or to welcome it

Albert always believed he did the later but if that were true he would have ended his own life the moment he was free of Umbrella and Spencer. He was a useless shell, something created, something unworthy of living on and even now he hesitated from picking up the shard and finally end it all. Instead, another ugly sob escaped him, his tears were running down freely now.

This weakness was something he never could wrap his head around, something unfathomable but it was something no one could understand or explain. In reality, it is an experience like no other. Incomprehensible as to why until you start slicing, damaging, _hurting_ yourself. The truth is quite simple. It was easy to use violence on yourself when you hated yourself enough, when there was nothing you hated more.

_Always a failure, never enough._

His thoughts were running in circles, always halting at the thought of finally - _finally_ ending it all. Every second of this was pure agony and more ugly sobs formed. He was shaking like a leaf then, hands closed into fists and refusing to pick up the damned shard. There was nothing he could do as his whole body wasn’t obeying him anymore, shaking like a small child in the presence of a man that had seen him do his worst, inflicting as much pain as he could to others in his latest years to stop himself from directing it towards himself. He briefly wondered if Chris knew, if he understood because he pulled him forward and engulfed his shaky form in his big strong arms. Chris tried to comfort him. It was crushing, bordering on being hurtful but exactly what he needed. He needed the pain.

_He needed the pain._

He wanted Chris to lash out at him again, scream at him, hold him tighter, move his arms up, further, up to his neck, closer, _tighter_ , -and snap it. Albert slowly let his hands travel up Chris’ back and began digging his fingers into it, drawing pain, pressing harder with every second. He couldn’t stop the violence. And he needed to make Chris be his tool for it. He could no longer be Spencer’s tool. He dug them in deeper, drawing blood but all Chris did was clinging to him, holding him even tighter. 

“Please,” Albert asked quietly.

He was weeping into his chest, his grip on Chris probably damaging his skin a lot, definitely bruising his back, and he was repeating the word like a prayer, over and over until it turned into one long sound, until he finally stopped speaking because he was just a babbling mess. He was so very disgusted with himself but at the same time, he wasn’t because was it really his own thoughts and believes that made him think so lowly of such actions.

“What do you want from me?” Chris asked at last, not sure how to interpret his pleading and enduring the pain Albert was inflicting on him.

“I-” Albert started, unsure where he was going with this. He wasn’t sure what he was pleading for.

Something broken can never be mended

Endure the fire or welcome it

“Burn me,” he whispered quietly. _Let it burn through my skin, down to my bones, scorching my soul until there is no more._

Chris froze, utterly and completely unable to move as Albert continued to press his fingers, drawing more blood from him. It must be so painful but he still wasn’t letting go of him. Why was he never doing what he wanted?

“Hurt me,” he rasped, tears still running and fogging his vision, dizzying. Everything around him was disappearing.

“Wes- I… Alber-” he stammered and Albert would have laughed if he wasn’t feeling so tired, so empty, so entirely broken. Was that all it needed to shake him up? All the monsters, all the betrayals in the past and all it took was him showing this disgusting display of himself and asking those questions to scare Chris?

“Hurt me or kill me,” he repeated, dragging down his nails along his back and finally letting go. He assumed it took all of Chris’ willpower not to push him away. But he couldn’t care less about him because all he felt inside was pain, hurting him and he needed a different kind of pain. He needed more. 

His next sob turned into an ugly laugh and that did the trick. Chris immediately recoiled and stared at him wide-eyed maybe finally realizing that he was a lost cause. There was nothing worth saving in this cell. All he could focus on anymore was he alone and his dark past. Memories of that past a horrible mess, any good moments he had sullied by the misery he was feeling right now. The pain was etched into his bones and soul so deeply, there was nothing else he could see but the worst images of his horrendous childhood. And the shard. 

Knowledge is power. But knowing everything that he had forgotten, that they and he made him forget was bound to painful realizations and emotions he had no former knowledge of and didn’t understand, couldn’t bear. And at the same time, everything was so dull. 

He picked up the shard and Chris’ breath hitched, probably thinking he would use it on him but that was far from the truth. His grip on it was tight, cutting into the skin of his palm, trickles of blood running down his hand and slowly dripping to the ground. And then everything blacked out and his body moved on auto-pilot.

A slash across his other arm, watching on as more of his blood dripped to the floor. Another slash a few inches above the former cut. More blood. Moor cuts. More pain. Chris was momentarily paralyzed with shock, staring on as Albert was cutting up his whole body, every slash deeper than the last one. He just kept looking at the blade, it made no difference whether Chris was in this room with him or not. He cut without hesitation, avoiding his throat or heart for now because he needed to feel the pain a little longer. He needed to feel something.

It’s like something clicked and Chris caught him by his wrist, stopping his ministrations against himself. In a way, it was morbidly funny. Chris already had done the exact same thing once today, both surprised as it happened and now they were both purposely in this situation. But he didn’t stop there. There was a burning hatred reflecting off Chris’ face and maybe, just maybe he not only completely broke himself today but also another poor tortured soul. There was no more sympathy or fear, just blind rage and it showed in his actions.

Chris roughly grabbed his profusely bleeding arm with his other hand and pushed him against the wall, hard. Albert could hear his back crack a little upon the contact and it was sickly satisfying to him. Maybe he confused pain with something else, maybe he should rethink his actions and stop himself from driving Chris into this madness with him but he was _broken_. It would be better if he died in this cell today. And it would only be fitting for Chris to finally finish what he started.

Then Chris threw the first punch, letting more blows fly right after it to get rid of this blinding rage. They slam into every place of Albert’s body he could reach, drawing blood, cracking bones, his blows not strong enough to break them but Albert welcomed any pain Chris inflicted on him. Panting heavily he slid down the wall, landing on the floor, another mocking laugh to anger Chris, followed by him coughing up some blood.

Chris own laugh was a brittle thing. “Do you even care about anything? Not even about yourself?”

It had no effect on Albert, nothing really had anymore at this point. Instead, he kept grinning, taunting him. His laughter kept echoing in the room, goading Chris, even more, to inflict violence upon him. Chris still in his crazed state kicked out at him with full force to finally stop him from laughing. It made his back hit the wall again and momentarily unable to breathe as he was lying there on his side. He didn’t feel panic, thought, nothing - still - only his body reacted to the danger, desperately trying to catch his breath.

“Is this what you want!?”

_Yes._

“Making me suffer even more by forcing me to kill you?”

This was not about Chris’ pain.

“Is it!?” Chris roared, his voice sounding so desperate as if he could only stop if Albert told him to, ready to strike again and again. However, he halted as he took in Albert’s state during the temporary break. Troubled by the mere task of breathing and fresh tears rolling down his face. Blood everywhere, on him and the floor, seeping through his clothes, hardly any spot left out. The whole room smelled of blood and Chris’ guts twisted as he took it all in. 

He slumped to his knees before him, eyes wide and at a loss of what to say or do. Chris had stopped after countless blows and it was still not enough. Albert needed more, anything. He opened his mouth and closed it, trying to get as much air in as possible as he looked at the man kneeling in front of him. He couldn’t speak nor be any crueler by taunting him further. Nothing was enough, he was still mentally hurting. Any wounds Chris’ had caused could do nothing to ease the pain. He shuddered and sobbed, not knowing what to do.

Chris slowly pressed his face into Albert’s hair, cradling him up into his arms and moving them both to sit against the wall together in a more comfortable position. He shook as well, silent sobs wracking through his body as he clung to Albert. It was odd. Albert didn’t know what to do when confronted with Chris’ misplaced grief. He wanted this and asked for it. He wanted _something_. But nothing was helping.

For the very first time, Albert attempted an open and honest conversation because never in his life had he felt this lost. “I do-n’t know what, hn, to do.” He bit down on his lower lip as a wave of pain exploded in his body, finally catching up with the damage as more blood spurted from his wounds. Although, less strongly, his wounds already regenerating. “I don’t know-” he attempted again, “I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“I won’t stop hurting. I ack-” He curled in on himself as he was hit by another wave, closer into Chris’ warm embrace. “I always have been... _hurting_. But now it’s unbearable.” He tried his best to look up into Chris’ face, forcing his tattered body to move. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” 

“Please-” Chris stopped him there by gently stroking a still shaky hand over his cheek, wiping away the moisture from his face - tears mixed with blood. Something about the gesture was oddly soothing now while they meant nothing to him in the past. His mouth was open for his still shortened breathing as Chris’ hand wandered, tentatively stroking over his hair, fingers curling a little into his messy hair. He was a complete mess. Broken.

Something broken can never be mended

Chris was still trying repairing him, clinging to whatever they once had in the past. Albert didn’t treasure their former relationship, it still meant nothing to him. He just had given Chris whatever he wanted to lead and deceive him more easily. But somehow, now that his past self was in shatters, something was coursing through his body as Chris’ observed him with this stubborn hopefulness in his eyes. All Albert could do was stare back into his face, Chris’ own eyes swollen from the tears. Whatever he saw in his eyes, Chris must have interpreted it a certain way and slowly leaned down. 

Chris kissed him, a chaste one in its nature, so very gently as if scared of breaking him any more. When their lips met it stole Albert’s breath from his lungs, sped his heart until his ears buzzed. His body flushed with ice and fire, burning him entirely. In a way, it was painful and exactly what he needed.

_'Burn me’_ , he remembered his words from earlier and he finally understood.

Welcome the fire

Chris remained close as if waiting for Albert to push him away, attack him or himself again but instead the later closed his eyes, waiting. Chris then leaned in again, mouth barely touching his but it was enough to make Albert’s heart stutter. He could feel Chris’ breath on his lips, feel the scratch of stubble against his chin. Albert tried to take stock of his racing heart, his shallow breaths, the fluttering in his stomach. He hadn’t felt like this since.... he never had felt like this before. He felt like his entire being was breaking over and over again.

No creation without destruction'

No new beginning without an end'

It seemed as if Chris wasn’t sure yet about any of this, running his thumb over his lips with a concentrated look on his face. Albert raised his head a little again then, bumping his nose against the others’, trying to convey the emotions he could not communicate with words. Chris traced the line up to Albert’s cheek to caress it before he fully leaned in and pressed their lips together. It was another careful kiss, a mere brush of lips with a hint of promise. Albert was left light-headed by that simple, gentle touch as he had only ever known violence. He wanted more of this. And Chris gave in.

Forging a new life to replace the shattered one before

Chris did exactly that.

  
  
  



End file.
